just so you know, the stars are for us
by idiosyncrasies
Summary: "- because this is love, and if this isn't enough, then nothing else is." jeyna. post-giant-war


**author's note || **it's been a while, but i love jeyna, and it's 1:51 in the morning and i'm tired but i love jeyna. i hope you would enjoy reading this, lovelies. :) a little angst, a little bit of hope, and i'm a little rusty in writing fanfics. still, i hope you would enjoy this altogether! xx

.

* * *

_**just so you know, the stars are for us**_

_and here's to us and  
all the infinities i know we'll have;  
and here's to us and  
the possibility of you and i  
going beyond the lines.  
-_

* * *

Nightmares. Nightmare. Sleepless nights.

How it's called - _does_ it matter?

It starts after the remnants of war starts to saunter off like ghost, one by one then little by little. It is hardly noticeable, barely passing the judgment of the human heart, but when she does wake up at night, feeling the sweat beads trail from her face down to her neck, she knows - _she knows _- it just isn't something ordinary. She grows sleepless at night, drinks coffee early in the morning (never hot chocolate - it never does the trick), and snaps at nearly everyone.

And then, just like that, she starts to snap. It's not like she doesn't try to do anything about it because she does a lot, _so _much, in fact. At night, she will force herself to drift off to sleep, even it means clutching her sheets a little too tightly and opening several bottles too many. In the morning, her lids will flutter open a few moments before the sun would pad its way to the horizon and kiss the grounds of her - _it's always been _- camp. But it does nothing.

Not when the nightmares never seem to stop. Not when she would feel them crawl down her back and see her sister's face, twisted in pain and in agony. Not when she feels like her insides are twisted inside out. Not when her mother is looking down filled with disdain on her. Not when they have lost the war, when her people are dead, and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it. Not when he leaves her again. Not when she can't do anything about it.

Nightmares are nightmares, even if her past would come back to haunt her or not.

The minutes turn into hours, and the hours turn into days and sleepless nights. She would bury herself in paperwork, training, and activities, pushing each thought away at the back of her mind, keeping it there until it comes back to haunt her once the dusk settles in. It's a product of war, she reasons. And she's a daughter of war, isn't she? She's sup_posed _to get through this without difficulty. And, yes, she can be a failure at anywhere else but this. Wars are meant to be fought, and wars are supposed to dehumanize her until there is nothing left of who she used to be. But she's going to stay still and firm and grounded because - _by the gods! - _she's stronger than some petty nightmares from the war.

A queen never crumbles; a queen never breaks.

"Are you okay?" Frank had asked, carefully, before a Senate meeting, and it takes all Reyna has not to tell her fellow praetor that no, she's not okay, that yes, the monsters still haunt her in her sleep, and that no, she doesn't think she can handle it anymore, but she is still going to try, even if she has to give all that she has left.

And yes, people did notice - Annabeth and Hazel did, at some point, Gwen did too. It was Rachel, the redhead oracle who noticed her eye bags too large, hair too dull, body too tired to move, and heart too broken to beat. And it's so ironic - or at least that's what Reyna thinks - because by the _gods, _will no one ever really love her? In retrospect, had it been in the past, that would have been a futile question to ask, for there is someone who has her back _no matter what, _for there is someone who will be there, for there is someone -

But that person is gone, and the past doesn't matter.

Even if it hurts so, s_o, so _much.

And so, if she's meant to live solitude, then so will she. If she's meant to shed blood, then so will she. If she is meant to lay her life on the line for her comrades and friends, then so will she. She abides to responsibilities and rules, and she never follows her heart because isn't that what logic is for? Isn't it there to stop her from jumping ahead of logic and wearing her heart on her sleeve? Isn't it there to keep her from hurting because the last time she wore her heart so carelessly - _it got broken and torn and shattered into _tiny million pieces until it hurts to breathe, until it hurts to bleed?

"Reyna." It's him again, she realizes, as she lifts her gaze from the stacks of paperwork on her desk. She sets her pen down, feeling her fingers scrape the smooth surface of her table where only the reports and a small jar of jellybeans are contained. The past three hours of rhythmic work has helped her adjust to the sweet company of the night, accompanied by the short-lived music a few meters outside.

And her reply is almost painfully soft and fleeting - _Juno_, she's so tired - but she tries to smile and keeps up with appearances because isn't that what she's supposed to do? "Jason," she greets back, pushing aside the thundering pain that pangs her temples so, so _so _painfully.

"What are you doing here?" he phrases, almost carefully. And it takes her all she has no to stare at the night sky, lose herself in the infinity, and loosen the firm hold she's been trying to use to keep her emotions in place. His voice is light, but it's the kind of music she'd want to lose again. And again. _And again_. "You should be relaxing outside, you know. It's not too late to join the party."

"There is no time for that," she says. "The paperwork wouldn't finish itself."

And then his smile sends her heart beating twice - no, _thr - _no, no, no, it's just beating fast, too fast for her own liking. "You're always working," he replies, almost teasingly. "You never change, Reyna."

She did change, she realizes, watching as Jason take a few steps forward, his lips still curling and eyes still bright and _gods, _her heart is still swelling and beating so hard. He was just never there to see, never there to notice how her health declined these past few months, never watched her muffle back her screams every time her nightmares would come back to haunt her, never witnessed how she dealt with that curse - because really, wasn't Gaea contented with ruining her home, she has to ruin her dreams, too?

"That's because," she starts, feeling her shoulders slump forward in protest, "something has to stay constant."

"You are."

No, she wants to argue. He _is. _He's always been the steady one, the level-headed one, the steady one, and he still is, she concludes. Except he's never been happy with her in the first place. He needs someone prettier, smarter, more cunning, more loving, more affectionate than Reyna could ever be. He needs someone more easy-going, someone who can bring the best in him, someone who can saunter off beside him and fit that perfect puzzle piece. Someone Reyna is not and will never be.

And it still hurts up to now, and she wants to scream because _gods - _she's not good enough. She'll never be.

And she isn't sure if she's okay with that, but then Jason is taking a step forward and is looking at her as if he's been planning that all along and he's reaching out to grab a hold of her hand, and _ohmygods _he's holding it in between his. And he's looking at her as if the world is ending and-

Why is this happening? Has Gaea thought of worse ways to bring about her worst nightmares? Or did the Fates finally decide that punishment is the best reward they could give?

But somehow, _somehow in _someway, she's okay with it.

"What are you doing?" she asks, immediately drawing her hand away, but he encloses it between his hands, anyway, and she just can't fight back. But she tries again because she's Reyna and Reyna is logical and firm and stoic and -

"Come on," he insists, dragging her from her chair out to the side of the room and out of the Principia. As her feet grazes the red carpet, she finds herself protesting, but it's the slight tug of his hands that does the trick and _why the Pluto did she shut up?_ She follows wordlessly, and when he turns - _when he turns, it's like magic _- she finds herself catching her breath. How does Piper McLean stop herself from turning breathless at the presence of Jason Grace when all he seems to do to Reyna is make her feel frantic and breathing and alive?

"I have something to show you," he tells her, dragging her to the quiet paths. And she tries - _oh_, she tries - to respond cattily, "Make it fast."

"Ever the impatient one?"

She doesn't reply, not because she doesn't want but because she's tongue-tied, and she _justcan'tbreathe_ -

"Here," he says, when they finally draw to a stop.

She turns to him, cocks an eyebrow, after letting her eyes survey the fields. "We are at the Fields of Mars," she says, slowly, still not piecing things together. "I don't understand how this is more important than the paper-"

"Shh," he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, as if he's been doing it all alone, as if that's what he's meant to do, as if he's never left. And she tries so hard not to swat it away, but she ends up doing so, and _what has she done? _At that, he apologizes, "Sorry, I got used to that back at Camp Half-Blood."

And her heart breaks into tiny pieces, because that is now his home and there's no more space for Reyna and her plain hair and her stupid antics and her selfish ways. And her heart shatters into millions of pieces because she knows he's moved on and she hasn't and she can't when it's about Jason Grace. And her heart is too damaged because she loves him and it doesn't matter, but it still does. It still does because this is love, and if this isn't enough, nothing else is.

She's already lost before the game has begun.

"Did you know the stars here are much more visible than the ones in New York?" he asks, quietly, his gaze planted on the stars. She can't find the strength to reply, so she lets him continue, "And I miss these stars a lot. They're much brighter here."

She lets out a strangled cry, in agreement.

"And, yeah, I'd make this quick," he says, clearing his throat, "and all right, I'd start now." He stops and turns to her, eyes sincere and it's the kind of shade she can kind of easily get lost into. "I just want to make a promise."

She opens her mouth to protest, for promises are meant to be broken, and he's already broken off his a year ago and isn't that enough heartbreak for her? "Do-"

"No, no," he cuts off, "let me finish. I just want you to know I'm sorry, and I know whatever I do can never - _will never - _make up for the hurt and pain I've caused you. I'm sorry, Reyna. I really am. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she says, quietly. This is it, she realizes. This is when he decides to leave her behind; the thing is, she realizes she's too numb to feel anything about it. "I understand. It isn't your fault."

"No, you don't," he reasons, "because that's not what I mean to say all along." And his grip tightens on her hands, and she just can't stop her heart from pounding out of her chest _again_ and what is _wrong _with her? He is just a boy she learned to love and to wait for. It just so happen he's never going to love her the way she loves him, and it's all righ-

"I'm here to stay, and I'm meant to keep things that way," he tells her, and her heart sings. "I don't want to leave you or New Rome or Camp Jupiter, for that matter. This is home, and no matter what I do, nothing's going to change that. I don't want to leave it behind." And suddenly, he's grabbing her chin and tilting her chin upwards so he can meet her eyes with his and she just can't breathe. That's Jason - electrifying, but somehow, she just can't get enough.

"And I'm sorry I left you behind. During the past months, I had the time to think to myself. Camp is great," he admits. "I met lots of amazing people  
_Piper_, she thinks, dully - "but it will never be home. And I'm sorry it took me a long time to realize where I feel like I belong, but I really hope you understand." His voice softens, and it takes her a few minutes to realize it isn't just the camps he's talking about.

He finishes, "But now I know, and I want to stay."

"But what about-" she asks, numbly.

"We broke up half a year ago," he replies, carefully. "She wants to go around with her dad, and she can't do that if she has to worry about a long-distance relationship."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She wants to say something, but she can't. She wants to do something, but she can't. She wants to try be something, but she can't. Someone had robbed her of her ability and capability to function like a normal being and _gods-_

_But _then he's lifting her chin a little bit higher and he's lowering his head slowly, slo_wly_, _slowly_, and then his lips are so soft against her hers. And the kiss is slow and soft and everything sweet. It's almost as if he's afraid to close the gap between them, but when he did, it feels like everything is just bursting and falling into place. It takes her a few moments to realize what's happening and that _ohgods-Venus_, Jason Grace is kissing her, and she is kissing Jason Grace, and by the gods did it feel so good.

His hands rest on her waist, and, almost as if having life on their own, her limbs - her arms, especially - started to move as it snaked its way from her sides to follow the path up his chest until it finds its place on his shoulders and around his neck and on his hair. At first, she wonders if he's going to stop, but then his hands starts to snake its way up and down her back too, and she figures maybe it's okay. (_What if it's not?) _But he's still kissing her, and he tastes like peppermint and honey at the same time. She's breathing him in, and all she can think of is sunshine and of home, of the days she spent on the coast of Puerto Rico with Hylla, of the days she spent with Lupa, of the nights she'd spend with him, just talking under the blanket of the velvet night sky. She doesn't know how long they stood there, but when they pause to catch their breaths, she couldn't help but stare back at him (and he's grinnin - oh, _he's smiling and he looks so, so, so happy...?) _and memorize each detail of his features -

Afraid he's going to vanish. Afraid she might let go again. Afraid she might lose him. But his finds its way back to hers again, and then, they're squeezing hers, and she figures it's okay.

"Sorry," she says, and her heart is beating so, so, so loud and her head is pounding and _the feeling of satisfaction and happiness_-

"Don't be," he tells her, smiling.

"Hm."

"We can always-"

"-but that's-"

"I mean, the stars are bright," he tells her with another grin, "but if you have anything else-"

"Like paperwork."

"Yes," he tells her, squeezing her hand. "Like that."

"Unless you have a better-"

"I was waiting for that, y'know."

And she doesn't wait for him this time because yeah, she's grinning a little _bit _wider now, and yes, she's going to have nightmares, and yes, her emotions are in a whirlwind, and yes, she might or might not regret this tomorrow. But Jason Grace is right here right now, in this moment, and _gods_ she's kissing him, and he's the best she's ever had.

That's enough for now.


End file.
